Breathing In Dust
by ThousandpercentDone
Summary: Blaine has asthma, and hasn't told anyone. During the school shooting, he has an attack, but his medicine is in his locker, impossible to get. But it actually doesn't really matter if went and got the inhaler, because it seems like he's making enough noise to get them all killed anyway.


_Prompt: Spoilers for Shooting Star. Blaine has asthma and with the panic during the lockdown has an asthma attack. His inhaler is in his locker and everyone is freaking out that he is making too much noise.._

I got the prompt above sent to me on tumblr, made my day, btw, and wrote it. I hope you'll enjoy reading!

Tumblr URL: Imhjordis

Please feel free to leave prompts for me!

**Warnings: Asthma attack, vomit (No vivid description, actually no description of it at all really just the action of vomiting) Spoilers from episode 'Shooting Star'.**

* * *

He was trying. He really was. But for some reason, _come on, you know the reason_, his breathing wouldn't calm, and it most certainly didn't get any easier to inhale through his swollen throat. No matter how hard he tried to calm down and relax, it only seemed to worsen.

_Of course it's not helping, you need your medicine. _

But, see, there was the biggest of his problems. Blaine's medicine was hidden deep inside his locker, and _he _was currently trapped in the choir room with only his cellphone and a pink scrunchie around his wrist. And that wouldn't help much.

But right now, even though he knew that it was stupid, his biggest worry was not the attack itself. Neither was it the gunman that was probably wandering around the school somewhere, looking for his prey. No, it was the people who were with him in the room that worried him. The biggest reason besides not wanting to give them all away by having an attack, was everyone else in the room finding out that he had asthma.

He quietly laughed to himself because of his own silliness, despite being anything but amused, but this only caused a loud cough to work it's way up through his already narrowed airways, which was followed by a choir of shushes.

_God damn it Blaine, focus. _

He had a reason, of course, for not wanting them to know. Having asthma was not an embarrassing thing, at least Blaine didn't think so, but people finding out was not something he wanted.

When people knew, they tended to get way too protective over him. Of course, they only meant the best with it, and Blaine_ did _appreciate that they cared, but it could be a little too much sometimes. Especially with his mom and Cooper.

Every time they would leave the house when he was younger, and still, the minute they left they would start babbling about his health, asking him a thousand times if he'd remembered his inhaler and to drink plenty of water, and even at the slightest cough or sound they would rush to him, asking if he was ok, if he wanted to sit down, if he wanted water, medicine, _anything_. And it was kind of tiring and frankly, quite annoying in the longer run.

Then there was also the thing, that at his old school, it had been one of the many factors that helped making his life a living hell. Including his crazy hair, love for music and dancing, shortness and being gay of course.

People would bully him mercilessly for something that he couldn't help, anillness, and it had kind of damaged his ego. It was a sore spot, and even though he knew that his friends at Mckinley wouldn't bully him in any way about it, he hadn't felt very eager to tell them. Besides, it wasn't often that he had problems with it. So he hadn't told anyone.

Except for Mr Schue.

His mom had convinced him, that it was important that someone besides Kurt knew, in case he had an attack, and Blaine could see the logic in that. And Mr Schue was actually kind of cool about it, not nursing him, not fussing too much about it. And it was nice that someone knew. Especially now.

Because it was getting worse. The tight feeling in his chest was getting drastically worse with each second that passed, and his breathing was already louder and more wheezing than before.

It was the stress. The anxiety. The fear. All perfect triggers for an attack.

_Calm down. If you just relax, the swelling will pass and you'll be fine. No one will hear. Everyone will be fine_.

But he couldn't.

-

Sam _had_ noticed that something was wrong with Blaine. He'd seen how he'd been shifting around, discretely clutching his throat and coughing silently for the entire time they'd been stuck in the choir room, he just hadn't acted on it, because, hey, they were all pretty upset, right?

But now, it seemed like something was_ really _wrong. Like, he wasn't just terrified like the rest of them, he really looked like he was having trouble breathing. And it was weird, because as far as Sam knew, Blaine had no critical diseases whatsoever.

The teenager was sitting before him, curled up into himself, shaking slightly. He kept clearing his throat as if to prevent more coughs, but his face was currently hidden in his knees, so Sam couldn't read him.

His hands kept fumbling behind his knees on his chest, pressuring as if he was trying to lighten or remove something in there, and kept grabbing his throat, holding tight until red fingermarks appeared on the skin there.

His breathing was uneven and fast and loud, and it worried Sam. Ever since Mr Schue had forced him to sit down by the piano and he'd calmed down a little, he'd started noticing Blaine's weird behavior, which was only getting worse.

Blaine didn't look okay. He'd have to ask him, even if the other wanted it or not.

"Blaine," he whispered, ignoring the glances he got from the others because of it, but the boy didn't look up. He hadn't even heard.

"Blaine," he tried again, placing his hand gently but reassuringly - wanting to indicate that he had nothing but good intentions with it, because they were all a little jumpy right now - on the other's knee, this time causing a reaction. Blaine flinched and looked up, taking a moment for his slightly red eyes to focus properly. He frowned, eyes fluttering around the room, to his sides, checking the other people in there, paranoid.

"Are you okay, dude?" Sam whispered, barely audible, but was actually a little shocked by Blaine's reaction. He smiled. He just smiled, nodded and returned his face to it's former placement.

This would of course be a natural reaction normally, especially from mr Blaine Dapper Anderson, but not now, not here. They were stuck in a school with a freaking_ gunman _and Blaine was smiling politely, as if to please Sam. He shouldn't care about any of that right now. He shouldn't care about his image, his reputation. Therefore, it seemed fake to Sam. Especially because he was so pale, and did so not look okay.

But he didn't question it. Blaine had the right to keep his thoughts to himself if he wanted to, and Sam didn't feel like intruding. After all, Blaine was normally not the type to shatter his polite and put together facade, and it probably wasn't very easy for him in the first place to be this scared and vulnerable in front of so many people.

But after a while of sitting with closed eyes, something was disrupting Sam's thoughts, something that had been there for a while, but he hadn't bothered to check it. But now it had gotten louder, more intense.  
He opened his eyes, only to find the location of the sound coming from Blaine. And he was only looking worse than before.

His knees were drawn even closer into his chest than they were before, face still hidden in them, and he was shaking, violently. His hands were not subtile anymore, they were literally clutching, one of them his throat, the other his chest.

And he was hyperventilating, a nasty, wheezing sound escaping his mouth.

He was not the only one who had noticed, Sam discovered by briefly looking at the others in the room. They were all staring at Blaine, frightened. Both for Blaine's condition, but also because he was really loud, and there was a gunman out there, and he would give their hiding place away if he kept going like this.

"Blaine-_Blaine! _Shut up!" It was Jake who was talking, and he couldn't really see Blaine properly, but if he could, he probably wouldn't have said that. There was something really _really _wrong here.

"What's going on?" Mr Schue hissed, who was placed so he couldn't see Blaine, only hear the distressing sounds coming from behind the piano. Nobody answered. Nobody knew.

"Guys?" Mr Schue asked again, this time a little louder, a little softer. "What's that noise? Is it a phone, because you need to turn it off right now-"

"Mr Schue I don't think Blaine is all right," Sam suddenly found himself saying, not really knowing where his ability to answer in this terrifying and confusing situation came from.

Mr Schue's before slightly annoyed facial expression changed immediately, and he suddenly looked extremely worried and… _scared_.

"Oh no, oh nonono," Sam could hear him mutter to himself as he crept all the way across the room to where Blaine was seated. There he placed his hand gently but firm on the shakily boy's shoulder.

"Blaine? Blaine, what's wrong?"

Blaine finally lifted his head, wide and terrified eyes fluttering timidly around the room before finally settling at the man before him. He was way too pale.

He tried to take in a proper breath to say something, but it was cut off, causing a series of loud, _way too loud, _coughs. Everyone in the room flinched at the sound.

"Blaine _shut up,_" Someone hissed, and Sam looked to his left to see who it came from; Ryder.

Nobody said anything, because really they were all thinking the same thing, but they weren't insensitive enough to _say _it. Apparently, Ryder hadn't really perceived that something was actually wrong. You couldn't blame him though, they all had their own things to worry about right now, but that didn't make it any more okay to say that.

"He can't help it, Ryder."

Everyone was shocked by Mr Schue's voice; low, panicked, irritated and_angry. _Never before had any of them heard him being rude to a student, maybe except for Rachel Berry for those who remembered _that_, but that was with good reason. And judging by Blaine's worryingly increasing amount of coughs and his fast but tiny breathing, this was, too.

"Blaine," Mr Schue tried again, placing his hand on top of Blaine's on his chest. _What is going on?_ "Blaine. Look at me. Where's your medicine?"

_Medicine? What medicine?_

Blaine's head dropped down, but Mr Schue quickly lifted it up by his chin, forcing him to look him in the eye. Blaine swallowed, clearly trying to slow down his breathing enough to talk properly, but even though, the words came out staggering and cut.

"'m-'m f-fine-"

"No, Blaine, you're not fine. Look at me-_look at me_." Mr Schue's voice sounded panicking, yet reassuring, the last one only for Blaine's fault. He lifted Blaine's head once again, as it dropped to his knees from dizziness. "Blaine, where's your medicine?"

Blaine moaned in pain as he once again tried inhaling, and per reflex grabbed his throat as no air seemed to come through. He was turning blue, Sam realized with horror.

"Shit. Shitshitshit," Mr Schue cursed, as he fumbled with Blaine's torso, clearly not knowing what to do.

Then finally, a breath came through, followed by many desperate ones more, and he regained his natural color, though still pale.

"L-Lock…Lock-er."

The word came out slurring and only half, and Mr Schue cursed. _Why? What is with the locker?_

"Mr Schue, what is going on?"

Suddenly, the kneeling man seemed to become aware of the people surrounding him, the silent sobs from around the room, the confused and horrified looks. He looked terrified himself, agitated.

"Blaine-um.. He's-"

Suddenly, a trembling hand, Blaine's hand, shot up, grabbing Mr Schue's arm, and he looked at the man with pleading eyes, as if asking him not to continue. Mr Schue shook his head, looking Blaine in the eye, and the boy let his hand drop defeatedly, an empty look in his eyes.

"Blaine is having an asthma attack. And the inhaler is in his locker."

_Asthma_. Blaine had asthma. And the only medicine to help him was in his_locker. _In the hallway. With the gunman.  
_  
_Realization struck Sam hard, and many others, too, he could tell from the gasps and choked up sobs around the room.

Asthma was dangerous. Especially if you didn't get the medicine for it in time. Sam knew, _of course _he did, his god damn _cousin _had died from it when he was just a newborn.

And now Blaine was having an attack, and he couldn't get the medicine because it was in his _locker _in the _hallway _where there was a freaking gunman, ready to shoot them all.

It was like choosing between pest and cholera.

Nobody said anything. Everyone, except for Blaine who was now, frustratingly, hyperventilating noisily again, only interrupted by loud and terrifyingly violent coughs.

"Blaine. _Blaine,_" Mr Schue whispered, even though Blaine's amount of noise probably made it indifferent to if he was shouting. "Look at me. Try calming your breath. Just try. We have to be quiet Blaine, _please._"

But as much as Blaine tried, he couldn't calm down. He swallowed a lump and the saliva in his enclosed throat, closing his eyes in pain, but it didn't make it any easier to breathe. He needed medicine and he needed it _now_.

Suddenly, the room turned extremely quiet. Way too quiet.

Once again, Blaine had stopped breathing, and everybody turned their gazes to him, eyes widening. The only sound now, was Marley's silent sobbing into Jake's shoulder.

"Fuck. Damn it, Blaine, _breathe._"

But that was easier said than done. Blaine's airways was completely blocked by swelling, and it was impossible to get any air through. Panicking even more, he opened his mouth but not even a wheeze came out. The look in his eyes was terrifying.

And Sam just watched. He just sat by the sideline, _watching _as his best friend slowly turned blue, not breathing for five seconds, ten seconds, fifteen seconds, twenty five seconds, _thirty five seconds-_

Finally, he drew in a series of hiccuped breaths, and everyone breathed out in relief. But this only resulted in another coughing session, this one more violent than the others.

"He's making too much noise," someone said, quietly, voice breaking on the last word. It was clearly not meant for anyone to hear, but even though, and despite the coughing, everyone did. With the exception of Blaine, which was probably pretty good.

"We have to calm him down or we'll all get killed, oh god, he has to calm down _right now,_" someone else whispered, and even though nobody answered, they all knew that they agreed. They felt bad, they really did, but this was so not what they needed _at all _right now.

But Blaine kept coughing. Nasty and loud coughs, making everyone flinch at each one, until he suddenly jerked to the left, vomiting the contents of his stomach onto the empty space there. Sam quickly moved his feet, just in case.

As Mr Schue patted Blaine's back and he began dry heaving, Sam moved to sit beside Artie, and then Blaine finally returned to sitting with his back against the piano, a pained look on his face. He looked as if he was trying to control his breathing, and failing miserably, as he bend his head backwards, dunking it into the shiny, black surface behind him.

"Is there anything we can do?" Sam finally found the ability to speak again, expecting an answer from Mr Schue, who shook his head, opening his mouth to say something, but Blaine surprisingly enough was quicker.

"K-K..Kurt," he choked out, looking at Sam with pleading eyes, just before he closed them again.

_Kurt_. Quickly, Sam snatched the phone that had fallen out of Blaine's pocket, unlocking it. Luckily, there was no password required to get in.

He found the contacts folder, and on the top of the list "_Kurt :)_" read. He clicked on it with a trembling thumb, and dialed the number. A picture of Kurt and Blaine popped up, Blaine's smiling head resting on Kurt's shoulder, which looked as if it was made for that; it was a perfect height for the smaller boy.

Sam shakily led the phone to his ear, and listened to the low key beeps. It only rang two times before he picked up.  
"Oh my god! Blaine! I-I heard about the gunshots in the news, I was so worried, god, are you-"

"Kurt-_Kurt, _it's Sam," Sam interrupted, casting a sideway glance to Blaine who was hyperventilating again. He heard a choked gasp on the other line.

"Oh, Sam, Oh-oh god, where's Blaine? Is he okay? Why are _you _calling from his phone, oh no, where is he, did-did something _happen to him_-"

"No, no, he-he's here.. But he's not entirely okay-um, we're stuck in school, in the choir room, and he's kind of having an asthma attack and we just don't know _what to do-_"

"Where's his medicine?"

"I-it's in his locker and we're just _stuck here_ because there's a goddamn gunman out there a-and he stops breathing all the time and he's _coughing_and they'll hear-"

"Sam. Give him the phone. P-please, let me talk to him."

"Yeah but he kinda isn't talking right now-"

"Sam.." Everyone turned their heads to Blaine again as he spoke, hoarse and silently. He stretched a shaking hand forward, and grabbed the phone that Sam was handing to him, placing it to his ear.

"K-Kurt," he whispered, throat torn from throwing up. A sigh of relief was heard on the other end, but only briefly until Kurt remembered the situation.

"Blaine. _Blaine_. Oh god, I'm so glad you're alive." The words sounded choked, and Blaine could hear him clear his throat. That voice. _Kurt. _Just the few word he'd heard on the other end had already helped him calm down more than he'd managed to calm him himself. It had always been this way before Kurt moved to New York. He'd always been there, and it'd always worked.

"M-me, too.. I'm-"

His words which were finally a little more calm with the help of Kurt, were abruptly interrupted by the sound of loud footsteps. Running. In the hallway._Right outside the choir room._

Somebody snatched the phone from Blaine, covering it with their hand to drown Kurt's confused blabbering on the other end as nobody answered him, attempting to minimize the amount of noise, but it was kind of indifferent with Blaine in there.

They all watched in horror as Blaine's breathing once again increased in speed due to the panic, loud, wheezing noises coming from the throat, but nobody said anything this time. He couldn't help it. They just hid their faces, trying to think of something else than that the person outside would _hear._

Blaine eyes were closed, looking as if he was concentrating hard, but even though the speed of his breath kept increasing, more and more. Mr Schue cursed under his breath. He was making too much noise.

"Blaine," he whispered to the boy, who didn't lift his head. He just kept kept gasping for the air that wouldn't enter his lungs properly. "_Blaine. _Listen to me. You need to calm down, I know that it's hard, but everybody's lives are in danger right now, and we _need _you to breathe properly."

Blaine knew. Of course he knew. He knew how his _stupid _asthma was putting _everyone's _life in danger. They could all be killed because of him.

But no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't slow down his breathing. He couldn't loosen the tight feeling in his chest, he couldn't reverse the swelling that made it almost impossible to breathe.

So instead, he just placed both hands over his mouth, burying it all in his shaking knees. But he was still making _so much noise _and it would be _his fault_-

He got an idea. A stupid idea, but at least it would work. It _could _end in failure, in the worst possible, but what would he rather? That they all died, or that he only did?

So he stopped breathing. He closed his airways himself, tightening his muscles on purpose, and then clasped his hand tightly over his mouth and nose, preventing any noise or air to escape or enter. Mr Schue looked confused.

"Blaine? Blaine, what are you doing?" he whispered, barely even audible. Then he realized.

"No, Blaine. Stop. Don't do this Blaine, you don't have to, just let go, Blaine,_Breathe god damn it-_"

He proceeded to remove the boys hands from his mouth, but even though he was in a critical condition and not completely conscious, Blaine was strong _and _stubborn. He didn't budge. Tears flowed down his face as he began turning Blue, and Sam and coach Beiste joined Mr Schue, holding Blaine as he struggled to get free. They were making too much noise.

Marley was crying. Ryder was crying. Unique and Kitty was crying somewhere in the room, too.

"Blaine, _breathe, _please don't do this-"

Suddenly, the sound of footsteps leaving from outside the door, fast, was heard. Everybody would've sighed in relief, but it still wasn't safe. Not at all.

"Blaine, they're gone, you can breathe, come _on_."

And finally, Blaine let go of his hands, letting out a broken sob which was followed by a desperate but way too little intake of air. He began coughing violently again, which resulted in another vomiting to his left. He then leaned his head backwards again, attempting to slow down his rapid breathing.

"Kurt," he gagged out, and Sam fumbled with the phone which was still turned on before handing it to Blaine.

"-are you, what are those noises god Blaine what is going on, are you okay? What is happening, please, someone-"

"'m f'ne."

Someone sighed. Even in this state, Blaine was still trying to comfort others, being humble, make them feel better when he really should be doing that with himself.

"You're fine," Kurt repeated, mostly to himself as if trying to believe the words. "You're fine-"

His words were cut off, as Blaine began hyperventilating again, and Mr Schue tried snatching the phone from him, but he clutched it tightly in his sweaty palm. But after a while, he dropped it even though, and the man led it to his own ear.

"Kurt?" he asked.

"Mr Schue, p-please, let me talk to him-"

"Kurt he's not.. The attack is pretty severe, we can't really-"

"No, Mr Schue, please. I can calm him down. I used to do it all the time, please just _let me try_, he-he can't hold on much longer I need to be able to-"

"O-okay," Mr Schue cut off his blabbering. "I'll put him on."

Then he proceeded to lift the phone to Blaine's ear, holding it himself since Blaine's own hands were pretty much occupied on his throat and also way too shaky to hold on to anything.

"Blaine. _Blaine_. Listen to me," Kurt's voice was heard on the other end, and Blaine closed his eyes in pain, attempting to regain _some _control. "You're fine. You'll be fine. Do you hear me? I'm here now, you'll be fine and I'll be there."

Blaine swallowed and nodded as if trying to force himself to believe the other's words. But then his head dropped again, and he shook it slightly.

"I-it just h..hurts so _badly_, Kurt, I-I-I can't _breathe _and ev-everything is just spinning-"

"I know, I know baby. But you're going to be all right. If you calm down. You're going to be fine, do you hear me?"

Blaine nodded to himself. "P-please, can we..c-can we talk about something else?"

"Something else.. Yes-yes of course. What do you want to talk about?"

"How's New York?"

"New York is.. New York is great. Rachel is preparing auditioning for _Funny Girl_, she's thinking about singing 'Don't Stop Beliving.' You remember that, don't you?"

Blaine nodded, smiling slightly. "Y-yeah.. I do."

"Yeah, well, she's getting kind of obnoxious lately. You know how she gets when a big event is coming up, god, she turns into such a _diva-_"

Blaine let out a short and staggery laugh, but this only resulted in coughing. He would just stick to smiling for now.

"Are you.. Are you okay?" Kurt asked hesitatingly when he was done.

"F'ne. T-tell me more."

"Okay, well, you know I joined the _Adam's apples _and_-_"

Suddenly, Blaine wasn't smiling anymore, and as he spoke, even though he tried not to, he sounded sad.

"Oh, right.. A-Adam. How are you two doing?" He hadn't meant for it to sound so bitter, but it did, and Kurt turned silent on the other end. When he spoke, he sounded upset.

"Look, Blaine, I-I'm not.. I don't know what this is. Can we not talk about this right now-"

"_Please._"

Kurt sighed again, looking for words, when he finally spoke.

"W-we're together, but I.. I don't really know if this is it. You know, with you and me, a-and I don't want to make you upset or get your hopes up because I _really don't know_, but we need to talk it through. Not now. Face to face. I need to find out, think about what I feel, because we can't deny that there's chemistry between you and me-"

"It's more than that, Kurt."

Blaine managed to get it all out in one breath, without stops or hesitations, and it had the desired effect. Kurt turned silent again.

"We will talk about it, Blaine. But not now."

"But.. W-what if now is.. Is the last chance w-we'll have to talk?"

Just by the thought of it, Blaine's breathing worsened again, and even though he tried to hide it by covering the phone, Kurt could hear.

"Blaine.. I-it's not. You'll make it. You all will. I promise."

Blaine felt a single tear run down his already streaked face, and shuddered.

"I love you."

It was not said like the first time he'd told Kurt those words. Neither like the second. It was not said out of affection and happiness, it was said out of fear, this was possibly goodbye, and Kurt could feel it.

"No, Blaine," he said, firmly, yet loving. "Don't. Don't give up. Tell me after.  
I promised you that I'd never say goodbye to you, remember? This is not goodbye. Don't make it be." They were both silent for a moment.

Those were the words that kept Blaine from giving in. When it seemed like no air would come through, that voice was what kept him from panicking. Kurt's voice. Kurt's words.

When someone shouted "ALL CLEAR" Blaine barely even heard it. He was almost when many hands got him stumbling to his feet, half-carrying him to his locker in the hallway, he wasn't really conscious. And when Sam finally got his locker open, grabbing the inhaler from the back of it and placing it in Blaine's shaking hands, he wasn't really there.

Even though, he somehow managed to inhale the medicine, and keep it in, too. It was Kurt. Kurt's voice, still ringing in his ears. Even when he drifted into a deep, dreamless sleep, Kurt was still there with him.

"_This is not goodbye."_

And it wasn't.


End file.
